First Aid
by jivvin
Summary: AU. Bruce Banner reportedly died in a tragic gamma radiation accident back in 2006. Now, in 2012, S.H.I.E.L.D. has brought in an Army-leased specialist to track the Tesseract, but the more Tony talks to him the more he notices there's something very, very wrong with the man.
1. A Stranger Appears

...

"Why, you ask yourself, why you're so afraid?

Why you hesitate when someone asks your name?"

 _First Aid Kit, "Blue"_

On his way to the labs, Tony Stark fought to suppress an exasperated sigh. Captain Fucking America. What was all the fuss about, really? A bit of added strength and endurance, and a fancy shield? Please. Mark II could outfight him on the worst day, and when it came to the VII prototype...

 _Not now._ They needed to find the Cube now, which _better_ be more fun than the briefing he's just left behind on the bridge. Fury asked him to help out their expert, mentioned they were searching for the thing by some kind of faint gamma-radiation trace. In the privacy of his own mind Tony was ready to admit that it was not exactly the area of his expertise, but he still did know the relevant people.

So, who was SHIELD going to snatch, on a short notice and under strict secrecy? Richards? He had some ties to radiation research, but nothing really solid. Pym? Unlikely, given their history. Arturo was rather too old for this kind of stuff, and Fuller… Well, maybe, though she was known for her dislike of working with government-sponsored agencies.

He entered the laboratory, taking quick stock of the layout, machinery, six heavily-armed guards (four in the corners and two by the exits), and a scraggy civilian man near one of the tables.

"So, you're 'the expert', I take it?" Tony asked loudly, coming to stand in the center of the room.

The man – middle-aged, middle-height, cheap and ill-fitting clothes – startled a bit at that, his hand darting, rather inexplicably, to tightly grip the rim of his glasses. He gave Tony a quick, jerk-like nod.

"Got a name?"

The man frowned.

"Robert Green," he said after a small pause. There was a faint, almost questioning uncertainty in his tone that seemed out of place in an answer to such a simple question.

"Pleasure," Tony replied simply. "Fury thought you might need a hand. Well, here I am."

"Oh. Of course, mister…?"

Tony stared. He honestly couldn't recall the last time he had to introduce himself, especially to a fellow scientist.

"Tony Stark," he said, in a perfect imitation of nonchalance. "I'm not shaking hands."

Now it was the other man's turn to stare.

"It's… an honour to meet you, Mr. Stark."

 _That's better_. "Call me Tony," he smirked, and received another jerky nod in return. The man turned back to his work then, and Tony looked for a place where his tech was supposed to be brought. Unfortunately, instead of stacks of labeled cases with SI technological equipment, all he saw around him were modified Hammertech assault rifles, clutched in the hands of grunts with square jaws and blank stares.

"Are these guys just gonna stand here?" he addressed one grunt, then turned to the room as a whole. "I hate crowded workplaces."

The one to reply him was a short-ish man near the north entrance, with Lieutenant's insignia and an air of barely controlled disdain for anything civilian about him. "We're under orders not to leave the laboratory unsupervised, Mr. Stark."

"What for? Think we gonna steal something?"

"We have our orders, sir."

Tony rolled his eyes. "Look, I'm pretty sure ol' Cyclops isn't going to-"

"We are not under the authority of Director Fury, sir, and we are _not_ leaving this room unsupervised," the soldier said through clenched teeth, then darted a quick glance at the other scientist in the room. When Tony followed his gaze, he found the jerky Dr. Green hunched over one of the displays, still and almost painfully tense, pointedly not looking at anyone.

"And you're okay with that?" Tony asked, taking a step towards the man. If he was right in his accessions so far, the physicist liked being babysat no more than Tony did himself.

Then again…

"Yes, of course I am."

Well, that was just _mean_. Not to mention completely against the spirit of fellowship that was _supposed_ to instantly have formed between two brilliant scientists set up against dozens upon dozens of barely educated muscle-force. And Tony was already opening his mouth to give his new-found "colleague" a quick course on professional solidarity when he heard the man continue, with calmness so complete and resigned it gave him pause.

"It is for the best."

Something then, some detail of Green's posture, or his voice, or the way the light reflected off his glasses – whatever, really, - has triggered a strong sense of déjà vu in Tony's mind; the cold dampness of a cave, smell of gunpowder and sand, and a vision of a tense man in a dusty suit looking at him with worry, frantically whispering in his ear " _Do as I do!"_.

So Tony did. Something was definitely fishy about the whole deal, though he wasn't yet sure about what aspect of it exactly raised the most of his concerns. The presence of the armed guard in a research lab, them not answering to Fury directly, or the weird high-strung scientist that looked kind of like he was left out of his top secret bunker for the first time in a decade? Either way, he could just as well play along for now, and see where it got him.

For some time then, he concentrated on unpacking his equipment and setting it up for work, pointedly ignoring the soldiers in the room, but keeping an eye on the physicist. The man looked like a compressed coil at first, but seemed to get engrossed with his work pretty fast, stopping to notice anything around him after that.

Which just wouldn't do as far as Tony was concerned. Silence gnawed on him, and since blaring Rolling Stones wasn't an option at the moment, he was ready to settle for the next best thing.

"Sooo… Come here often?"

Green jerked again, breath hitched, eyes wide, hands darting away from the keyboard as if he'd been burned. Like a startled animal. Like a-

"N-no. I've never been here before, actually."

"Are you working for S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

"Who? I mean, the Army. For the Army. Most of my… work is… classified," the man said carefully, as if deliberating over every word. It made something _click_ in Tony's mind then, some sort of vague revelation clumsily forming on the edge of his consciousness, just out of reach. He tried to chase that thought and see what it meant, but only succeeded in working himself up into a headache. Rubbing at his eyes, he looked away from the screen to notice that an hour has already flown by without him accomplishing much of his actual task.

Green, on the other hand, seemed to be working like a man possessed.

"That's some neat coding you've got going there, Bob," Tony said, coming to the other man's station and looking over his shoulder at pages and pages of the gamma search algorithm he was typing in at an impressive speed. "Can I call you Bob?"

A weird mix of amusement and horror was all that Tony could get from the guy's expression then. "S-sure."

"You know, I can't seem to recall any of your publications," he said, deciding now was as good time as any to start getting some answers. "I mean, given S.H.I.E.L.D.'s resources and stuff, I half expected to see someone like Arturo or Fuller, coming here."

"Is Arturo still alive?"

"He is," Tony smirked. "Still, it must mean you're top of your field, and I've never even heard of you before."

"Maybe I was just the best they could come up with on a short notice?" Green fidgeted. He looked away from Tony, tore off his glasses in one swift motion, then put them back on the next moment. "I assure you, when they… asked me to come here, it was just as much of a surprise to me as it is to you now. Maybe even more so," he added in an undertone.

"I don't think so," Tony went on, enjoying the other man's valiant – and sad – attempts at hiding his bosses' secrets. "About you being the first one they grabbed, I mean. With Fury, when it comes to staff, it's top dogs or no-one at all. Can you believe they've originally scratched _me_ off because of some half-assed personality assessment? 'Compulsory behaviour' my ass..."

Green's efforts to hide a smile were no less pitiful.

Tony decided to keep the guy on his toes though. "So, you're doing radiation research for the Army?"

"Y-yes," the physicist tensed again. "Sorry, it's-"

"Classified, you said. Still, pretty great. Great that _someone_ 's doing it. God knows there was no decent work done in the field since… well, since Bruce Banner's death, I guess, back in 2006."

Green's fingers, that were flying all over the keyboard just a moment ago, inputting and correcting strings of code, stilled at once – _inhale, exhale_ – before resuming their work, though at a much slower pace. The lines on his face hardened, then slackened once more.

That half-formed thought at the edge of Tony's mind tugged again, but he dismissed it for now in favor of pressing some more, going for what he believed was the gold here. "You knew him?" he asked with the previous masterfully faked nonchalance. "Banner, I mean."

"Yes," Green replied quietly. "We worked together, right before the, um… Accident."

"A friend of yours?"

A strange sort of expression came over Green's face then, but was gone almost immediately. "I never liked him much," the man ground out through clenched teeth, then went on without a change in tone: "The readings are definitely consistent with Dr. Selvig's reports of the Tesseract. But it's going to take weeks to process."

"If we bypass their mainframe and direct route to the Homer cluster, we can clock this at around 600 teraflops."

Green smiled, though there was nothing happy or genuine in that sloppily constructed grimace. "The Director was right, I do need a hand. Desperately."

Tony knew he was onto something here. He tried to keep an eye at the guards, as well as the physicist, throughout the conversation, and noticed them grip their rifles a little harder every time Green so much as flinched, and vice versa. A peculiar vicious circle that, as far as Tony was concerned, was begging to be prodded a little more.

"You know, you should come by the Stark Tower sometime," he began with a lazy smile, once again going over to where the other man stood. "Top ten floors – all R&D. You'd love it. It's Candy Land."

The fluster on Green's face was almost comical. "Thank you, but I don't… get out. Much. A lot of… work. Sorry."

"Well, you're bound to have a weekend off _some_ time, right? Drop by, I'm sure I can promise a much… lighter environment," Tony shrugged, passing Green by from behind and dropping a casual hand on the man's shoulder.

There was nothing casual about a reaction he's got.

Green flinched violently, as if from an electrocution, throwing all of his body to the other end of the table, turning away from Tony, curling in on himself in… fear? Of _Tony_? That wasn't what he expected to see, wasn't what he was going for at all, and what kind of reaction was that _anyway_ , you'd think the man expected to be attacked at any given minute, or-

"What are you doing here, Stark?"

His focus so firmly on Green, Tony has managed to miss Captain Righteous entering the room, as well as, he noticed with raising concern, all of the guards in it standing at utmost alert, their fingers actually on the triggers of their rifles.

"My job, Spangles," he retorted at once. "The real question is why _your_ big red boots are stomping around all this circuitry. Aren't you afraid the spectrometer over there's gonna steal your soul or something?"

"Is everything a joke to you?"

"Funny things are."

"There's nothing funny about compromising the search procedures for the Cube by harassing the S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel, Stark," the soldier scowled, nodding at the physicist still trying to regulate his breathing. "Is he bothering you, sir?"

Green's response surprised Tony once again. Instead of taking refuge in Captain's care, he looked more like the man was threatening him. "No! No," he quickly shook his head for emphasis. Tony decided to seize the opportunity that so fortunately presented itself.

"If there's anyone bothering anyone right now, it's you and your buddies here, Caps."

"Buddies?" the soldier frowned.

"Yeah, I'm afraid all of the corners are occupied, but I guess you can still stand right in the middle of the room and glare at us some more, like a Ghost of 4th of July Past. _Or_ , you can do a sensible thing and order them the hell out of here so Bob and I can work in peace."

Rogers took a quick look over the room, as if noticing the armed guard for the first time, a frown still on his features. "These people are not under my command, Stark. And even if, I'm pretty sure they were put here for a reason."

"Yeah, and I'll find out precisely what it was once my decryption program finishes breaking into all of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s secure files."

"What? Did you say-"

"Jarvis has been running it since I hit the bridge," Tony went on, reveling in the expression of bewilderment and muted outrage on the soldier's face. "In a few hours, I'll know every dirty secret S.H.I.E.L.D. has ever tried to hide."

"Maybe _this_ was the actual reason you've been scratched off, Mr. Stark," Green muttered from his side, a wry smirk clear in his voice if not on his face. "And it had nothing to do with your, uh, behaviour?"

Rogers didn't seem to have caught what Green said, all of his focus still on Tony. "Are you out of your mind?" he exclaimed.

"On the contrary," Tony smirked, "between the two of us, I'm the only one who has not only kept his mind, but also been using it very productively for quite some time now. This whole Tesseract business is extremely shady, and I _will_ get to the bottom of it."

"You think Fury's hiding something?"

Tony just huffed. "I'm surprised you don't. 'No-one trusts a spy' doesn't ring a bell? I thought you were in the Army."

"He's on our side."

"'Ours not to wonder why,' then, _Captain_? Well, be thankful that at least _some_ of us have retained a measure of independent thinking. It's bugging him too, isn't it?" he jerked his head towards Green, and, rather unsurprisingly, saw the man once again flinch from attention, one hand clutching at his glasses like a lifeline.

"I just want to finish my work here…" he mumbled to no-one in particular.

"I swear, if you hide behind your 'work' one more time-"

"It's not my place t-to talk."

"Leave him alone, Stark," Rogers interjected.

"Why? He has just as much right to speak as-"

"I don't, really…"

"Come on, Stark, let go-"

"Do you trust Fury?" Tony pressed, taking a step closer towards Green, forcing the man to look him in the eye.

What he saw made him wish he didn't bother.

Dark and cold. Tony has seen people with eyes like these before. People returning from battlefields. People who were starved, wounded, broken. Dead.

"I don't trust anyone."

There was no passion in Green's voice as he said that. No anger of the malcontent, no zeal of the conspiracy theorist, no resentment of the slighted. And still, the sheer simple, tired conviction of that phrase hit Tony like a brick.

There was something wrong with this man.

"You see?" Rogers's voice jerked Tony right out of his reverie. "This is exactly what Loki is trying to do. Wind us up and set us against each other. This is a man who means to start a war, and if we don't stay focused he'll succeed. We have our orders. We should-"

"'But to go and die,' yeah, we've got that already," Tony rolled his eyes, glad to be back on a more familiar track. "So why won't you get on that while Bob and I do some actual work here?"

Rogers set his jaw, and looked at Green. "Just find the Cube," he said simply, before turning around and walking out into the corridor.

Tony has looked at the door he left through for several long moments before shaking his head and getting back to his equipment.

"That's the guy my dad never shut up about? I'm wondering if they shouldn't have kept him on ice."

"Well, he's not wrong about, um, Loki. He does have a jump on you."

"'You'? I kind of thought it concerned all of us…"

"Us. Of course, I meant 'us'. Sorry."

The guy started fidgeting again, hiding his eyes, constantly touching his glasses, as if to check they were still there. Five minutes ago Tony would have probably found that almost adorable, but not after he actually looked the man in the eye. The awkward, fish-out-of-water façade was just a façade, or at least nothing more than a surface level of the physicist's personality. Down under, there lurked something else entirely, something bigger, heavier, something… dangerous.

He typed in a few simple requests into Jarvis's interface on his mini-tablet. The results took no more than several minutes, and were more or less what Tony came to expect. Jarvis's scanning of the databanks of the US National Academy of Science turned up exactly two individuals named "Robert Green": Robert Patrick Green, 62, a marine biologist, and Roberta Lee Green, 39, a seismologist. Further scouting of the reaches of the Internet did not turn up any significant publications by any Robert Green on the subject of gamma radiation in particular, or even particle physics in general. Which begged a question.

"Are you a criminal?"

"Sorry?"

"I had this idea you were some kind of Hannibal Lecter-esque evil mad scientist they let out of his pen for a time, but you say 'sorry' entirely too often for that to be true," Tony shrugged. "So, what's up with you?"

Green blinked a couple of times at him, not understanding, but clearly starting to worry. "What's… up?"

"Yeah, what's your deal? I mean, it's clear that the Cheer Squad here is for _your_ benefit rather than mine or the Tesseract's. There's no mention of you in the S.H.I.E.L.D. or NAS files, and somehow I'm pretty sure were I to get into the Army databases I wouldn't find a 'Bob Green, Ph.D.' there either."

The worry on the physicist's face increased. "Mr. Stark-"

"Tony."

"Tony, I'm sure this is some kind of mistake…"

"Are you under witness protection or something? That'd explain the absence of info on you, though not the soldier boys."

"No, really, it's-"

"Or maybe you _are_ a criminal after all. Do they think you're gonna take a .6 screwdriver to my neck the second I turn my back to you, and try to escape the 'carrier with me as a hostage? I mean, I don't know where they think you'd actually _go_ \- unless you can fly a jet – but, let's be honest, expecting logical thinking from the Army is setting yourself up for a disappointment."

"No, no, I'm not going to escape!"

Tony smirked. "But you'd like to."

"No! Please, w-why would I want to, uh, 'escape' from here? I'm here of my own free… will," Green pled, frantically looking at the soldiers around the room. Tony was pretty sure the man didn't notice his glasses were no longer on his face, but clutched firmly in one of his shaking hands instead.

"Yeah? Okay. Then why are _they_ here then, and why do they twitch for their guns every time you so much as breathe wrong?"

Green's eyes widened at that, then closed, as if on reflex, as he took a couple of deep breaths and attempted to center himself. Tony watched, transfixed, as the physicist breathed slowly, in and out, consciously relaxed his tensed up muscles one by one. The process seemed practiced, tried-and-true, as seamless and natural as the heavy rainclouds moving sluggishly across the sky. The man who has slowly put his glasses back on and looked at Tony several moments later had no traces of panic or pleading about him. In fact, there were no traces of emotion whatsoever on his pale, worn-out face.

"Mr. Stark…" he began evenly.

"Tony."

"…I would really appreciate it if you left the whole thing well enough alone."

 _This! There it is again!_ Tony has almost cried out. In his eyes, in his posture – that low-key, repressed, _dangerous_ intensity, like the waves crashing against the walls of a dam in a thunderstorm. Like watching a thriller film.

Tony felt a smile tugging at his lips. He was almost there. "You would, wouldn't you? I thought you too polite for the 'evil' part of the 'evil mad scientist', but that doesn't really discount the 'mad' part, does it? What, they're here in case you snap at me all of a sudden and go on a ship-wide killing spree?"

He could swear he heard Green's teeth grind. "Yes."

Tony laughed.

"Come on," he let out at last. "No offense, but look at yourself. A guy with a tranq-gun could take care of _that_. A full-geared squad of best and brightest? You'd have to be some kind of complete _monster_ to deserve this level of precaution."

Green went still.

A moment or two passed in complete silence, when Green didn't seem to be breathing, and Tony was kinda afraid to. But then the physicist moved, jerkily, back to his keyboard, and Tony felt a heavy hand land on his shoulder.

"Mr. Stark," one of the guards said, "It might be better for you to leave the room. Now."

"Hey, I'm not-"

"It's alright, Lieutenant," Green spoke from his station, perfectly calm, smiling even, as if that bizarre mini-breakdown of his a minute ago didn't happen. "It's fine. And I don't think Mr. Stark can reasonably leave the lab now – his, um, 'decryption program' has not yet run its course."

The guard looked dubious, a frown on his face and a firm grip on his rifle. He shot a glance back at his superior, received a slow, hesitant nod, and finally took a step away from Tony. The engineer heaved a deep breath, only then realizing he's been holding it before.

There was something so very wrong with this man.

"You're tiptoeing, Bob," Tony said under his breath, deciding to immerse himself in his work for a while and think through everything that has just happened. "You need to strut."

"You might not enjoy that," came a quiet response.

Tony wondered.

* * *

A/N: hoo boy, was this one a long time in the works! But now it's here, and I hope you're enjoying it :D

Next chapter should be up pretty soon, but until then please leave a comment if you're so inclined!


	2. The Fog Lifts

...

"She had that look of total fear in her eyes,

And as we drove away from there she looked at me and

she smiled"

 _First Aid Kit, "King Of The World"_

They worked through the whole night without exchanging more than a couple of phrases here and there, all work-related and to the point. Green has lost his robot-like serenity less than an hour after that little incident, reverting back to his fidgety, awkward self. He seemed to be perfectly happy to get back to his work, building and refining his algorithm without ever getting his eyes away from the monitor. Quite literally _happy_ too, in a strange, slightly surreal way that contrasted heavily with his anxious and panicky demeanor.

There was a change of guard at some point too, though Tony's only caught on to it as it was almost over. The soldiers replaced each other gradually, one by one, over a period of two hours, at seemingly irregular intervals. The overall level of precaution involved in the whole affair was baffling to Tony, but he knew he would not get any answers from the soldiers themselves, and trying to press Green was akin to walking a minefield with a blindfold on.

Jarvis was still working on decrypting the S.H.I.E.L.D. files, but Tony was sure he would soon get to the bottom of this. Dr. Robert Green's peculiar mannerisms and impetuous mood shifts were interesting all on their own, but, combined with the atmosphere of stifling secrecy and intense pressure in the lab, created a puzzle entirely too fascinating and fun to ignore.

Tony probably wouldn't have even noticed the arrival of the dawn, if he hadn't turned to Green with a question about the algorithm's integration with the Helicarrier's systems, only to see the man with his back to the desk, staring at the sunrise with wide, greedy eyes.

"You look like you haven't seen the sun in ten years," Tony smirked, testing the waters.

Green mumbled something in response before returning back to his monitor.

"What?" Tony tried.

The man only smiled that little one-sided smile of his, and Tony felt another wave on intuitive, just-out-of-reach knowledge crush over him. There was something here he was missing, some simple truth he was on the verge of grasping… Ugh, it was no use. He'll just work himself up into another headache like that. Besides, there were other, a tad more pressing matters to consider.

"So about that whole 'complete monster' thing…" he began, trying for his most casual tone.

"It's fine. I'm not offended."

"You should be."

"No, I really shouldn't," Green shook his head, that small crooked smile still twisting his lips. "You don't know me."

"Are you on something?" Tony asked then, leaning forward a little, squinting hard in the physicist's general direction. "You don't look like you are, but that's the only thing I can think of that would explain the almost compulsive smiling which, just between the two of us, Bob, is creeping the hell out of me."

That got a short chuckle out of the man, and made his smile look even more fake. "Sorry. But I'm afraid it's the only thing that keeps me from taking the .6 screwdriver to someone's throat right now."

Tony cringed, suppressing a sigh. "You know, before Afghanistan, before… before the SI changed course, a lot of people have considered – and called - me a monster. They were probably even right. But the thing is-"

"No. Please, just… Don't."

"What?"

Tony turned to look at Green then, and saw the man tiredly rubbing at his eyes beneath his glasses.

"Please don't think that I don't appreciate your efforts in this, whatever it… whatever you tried to say," he began in a tone of quiet resolution. "And I know it is going to sound a bit… well, childish, I guess, but I have to reiterate that you really. Don't. Know me. If – or should I say 'when' – you find out the truth, you are going to regret this conversation, regret trying to sympathize with me. And I am going to regret letting you. So… let's not even start."

"You're not going to give me any details, are you?"

"These people are put here to prevent exactly that."

The conversation has died down after that, and not ten minutes later Tony's tablet has given off a small _ping_ that signalized the completion of the decryption protocols. Tony has transferred the files to a larger monitor glass before him, quickly going through the files marked "Secret", "Top Secret" and "Strictly Confidential" in search of something that would shed some light on this whole farce with the S.H.I.E.L.D., and the Army, and the Tesseract…

'… _and if deemed viable, proceed to Stage Two as soon as…'_

"Son of a bitch! They want to weaponize it."

"Sorry?"

Tony swallowed the first dozen of curses – most of them taught by Rhodey – that came to mind. "The fucking Cube," he hissed instead. "I should've known. I should've fucking- See, this is _exactly_ why I quit the weapon business."

"You quit the weapon business?"

Tony blinked.

"Four years ago now," he said slowly. "Right when I became Iron Man."

"I'm sorry? Is that some kind of title or…"

Tony blinked again. And then again for good measure. Green just looked on at him, nothing but honest confusion on his weary face.

"You don't know about Iron Man," the engineer shook his head. _Honestly, it's been four years already, and I never did 'subtle', how can you not-_ "But you knew Stars-and-Stripes back there, didn't you?" he accused.

"Captain America?" Green frowned. "Sure. We all read the comics as kids, right? I even had a chance to work with some of Dr. Erskine's res-" he stopped abruptly, eyes going wide, realizing he's said too much.

And then it all just _clicked_.

All those bits and pieces, intuitive thoughts just beyond Tony's grasp that used to elude him as he concentrated on them, all of those little clues and signs, the infuriating oddness of it all… The picture that has finally formed itself in his mind seemed ridiculously simple and obvious now, but at the same time... He has read the reports on the Culver 2006 Incident, he has seen the readings from the area, there was no way, no way in hell-

He looked at the other man with new eyes.

"That much gamma exposure should have killed you."

There was a smile on the physicist's face again, but unlike those Tony has seen before. A grimace of desolation.

"It did," Bruce Banner said.

It all made sense now, shit, and answered so many questions, yet created so much more new ones at the same time. They were bubbling just under the surface, threatening to spill out of Tony's slacked mouth right into those dark hollow eyes in front of him, and what-

"What are you doing, Mr. Stark?"

It was Tony who startled and flinched this time, surprisingly enough, while Gre- _Banner_ , shit, it was _Banner_ , did not move a muscle. He was quick to recover though.

"Kind of been wondering the same thing about you, Nick," he said, turning to face Director Fury entering the room.

"You're supposed to be locating the Tesseract."

"We are," Banner replied instead of him. The complete, detached calm that has settled over the man after Tony's revelation was a bit unsettling to watch. "The model's locked, and we are sweeping for signature now. When we get a hit, we'll have the location within half a mile."

"Yeah, and you'll get your Cube back. But I'm more interested in…" _Why has the Army faked Banner's death?_ "What _is_ Phase 2?"

A flash of red and blue from his left caught Tony's attention just in time to see Rogers walk into the lab, a weird-looking gun in his hand.

"Phase 2 is S.H.I.E.L.D. uses the Cube to make weapons," the soldier said, dumping the gun on the nearest workplace.

Fury was ready of course, strewing excuses left and right as if on cue. "Rogers, we gathered everything related to the Tesseract. It doesn't mean-"

"Hell yes it does," Tony scowled. "Picking up right where I've left off? For fuck's sake, this one even incorporates the old Jericho missile designs!"

Rogers was shaking his head. "I was wrong, Director. The world hasn't changed a bit."

And as if the level of tension wasn't high enough for even the corner guards to start picking up on it, exchanging nervous glances and gripping tightly at their guns, Romanoff has picked that exact moment to enter the lab as well, an air of urgency and authority about her that simply begged to be challenged.

"Sir," she said, addressing Fury, "the prisoner has let us know that a surprise attack on the Helicarrier is in the works, probably soon, though I'm not sure of the scale. We should prepare."

Fury nodded, then quickly looked over the lab, finally focusing on Banner, a frown of concentration, or maybe apprehension, on his face.

"Dr. Green?" he said in a casual, informal tone that nonetheless had the weight of an order behind it. "You might consider removing yourself from this environment."

Banner's mouth twitched, a hand stopped halfway to his glasses.

"Playtime's over, huh? It's been nice, working again," he muttered, looking away from everyone, then lifted his eyes at Tony. "Nice working with you."

A wave of frustration and outrage swelled in the engineer then, and he had to consciously restrain himself from spilling it out on Banner, turning to face Fury and Romanoff instead. "What, that's it? He's done his part, and you're putting him back in his box?"

"What box?" Rogers frowned.

"You're in on it, aren't you? This is going on with your permission?" Tony pressed, pointing at Fury in accusation. "Well, I won't let you just-"

"It's alright, Mr. Stark. Tony." The voice from beside him sounded low, and warm, and suffocating, like sand. "It's for the best."

' _Do as I do!'_

Tony closed his eyes, swallowed a sigh. He was right, of course. Probably. Not the time, not the place, shit like that. The guys with the guns were still standing in all corners and by all exits, and stirring shit up now would bring nothing but misery, on Banner first. But he'll be damned, fucking _damned_ if he let those assholes have the last word.

"I'm not done with you yet," he said, turning to face the other man, looking him right in the eye. "Your work on anti-electron collision is still unparalleled, you know."

The expression on Banner's face then was almost enough to kick the floor from under Tony's legs. Not just awe, more than gratitude. _Pain_.

"Thanks."

* * *

A/N: Rather a short one, this, but I saw no point in dragging the reveal further off. Hope you still like it!

Next chapter will be longer, and it's where the action starts, but 'til then please leave a review if you have time!


	3. A Change Happens

...

"You don't smile anymore.

You're a drifter, shapeshifter,

Let me see you run"

 _First Aid Kit, "Wolf"_

They've escorted the physicist out right after that, a pair of soldiers stuck in front, behind, and on every side of him like flies to a corpse. And not a moment too soon, it turned out. Tony did not even have enough time to gather his scattered, rage-tinted thoughts into proper threats when he heard a clear ping from Banner's console, and went on to take a look. The search algorithm has run its course, but the coordinates he saw on the display did not make sense – _New York, Stark Tower_ , his _goddamn tower_ – yet were also perfectly reasonable, even inevitable, in some sick, poetic kind of way.

He took a step back from the console, lifted his eyes to look at Fury – but all he saw was a searing, blinding blaze of an explosion filling the room instead, roaring and violent, throwing him backwards into a glass panel, and further into darkness and pain.

The next hour was a blur – it's the attack Romanoff has warned them about, and it's fierce, precise, and well-coordinated, but so is the response of the S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel. While Rogers and himself headed outside to repair the Engine 3, Romanoff and Thor wasted no time getting to the most critical point of the attack, namely the detention level, to secure Loki's containment cell. They intercepted and neutralized the brainwashed S.H.I.E.L.D. grunts team lead by Agent Barton, and guarded the block until the all-clear signal was sent out thirty minutes later.

The losses of the Helicarrier crew were minimal, and Fury suffered no delay in dispatching Tony and Rogers to the calculated location of the Cube.

The construct that greeted him at the top of the Tower was unnerving - massive machinery directly connected to his powerline, weird parts and blue glow, energy signature readings he has never encountered before. A haggard-looking man was fussing around it with a bunch of tools in his hands.

"Doctor Selvig?" Tony called, approaching him slowly, a repulsor at the ready.

"W-what? Who? Stay back!" the scientist yelled, turning to face Tony and shield the glowing gear behind him. "It will come! You can't stop it!"

"That is not entirely correct, Sir," Jarvis's soothing voice filled his private feed. "My sensors indicate the Tesseract is being integrated directly into the Tower's power system, but the process is not yet complete. I could estimate its state at about 92,37% completion though. I would recommend you hurry."

"Thanks, pal," Tony muttered, readying his right-hand repulsor at 0,75% capacity. Romanoff said that a good knock to the head should get the man from under this spell, and then he would have Selvig dismantle the damned thing himself.

Just to think, another five minutes, and they would've been too late. He tried not to think about what they would've done then.

They returned to the Helicarrier victorious, with the Cube, and a slightly concussed scientist in tow, and Tony wanted nothing more in that moment than to see the Horned Wonder's pasty face as he threw all of his deluded megalomaniacal bullshit right back into it. He stopped by the glass cell on his way from the hangar, but the sight of the demigod pacing his cage – stiff muscles and fevered eyes, frantic muttering somewhere between a threat and a plea – did not fill him with joy. The man looked afraid, cornered and on the verge of panic, but something was telling Tony it wasn't the S.H.I.E.L.D.'s victory, or Asgard's impending wrath that filled Loki with such dread, and that his story had more to it than simple theft of the Tesseract.

But that wasn't what occupied his mind at the time. He left the wreck of a villain to his brother's care (which, he imagined, was a punishment in and of itself), and made his way up two levels, to the laboratory similar to the one he's shared with "Dr. Green" a few hours before, and where the man's been brought to, now that the danger has passed, to run some additional tests on the Cube and the staff before both artifacts were to be handed back over to Thor's people.

The sound of heavy boots on metal floor alerted him he was not alone on his journey.

"Mr. Stark? I have a question," Steve Rogers said, walking up to Tony from one of the adjacent corridors.

"And I have a dinner with Pepper in forty minutes, so let's make this quick," Tony retorted, not quite in the mood for dealing with the supersoldier at the moment.

To his surprise, the other man showed no sign of irritation at his quip, his eyes focused instead on something unseen in front of him, a thoughtful frown on his face.

"In that lab, before the explosion… There was something between you and Dr. Green. You said they were going to put him 'back in his box'?"

"Sure," Tony agreed, not yet certain what Rogers was getting at, but happy to share his frustration with whomever was willing to listen. "A small box with a sealed lid and two holes for air. They keep him there, and this was probably the first time they let him out to play. Or, that's what I gathered while talking to him."

"You think he's some kind of prisoner? To the Army?"

Another flippant - and full of caustic vitriol towards the Army and all it represented – retort was halfway off Tony's lips, but he forced himself to stop the argument he had no real desire to have right then before it began. Besides, Rogers did not look like he was trying for it either. His subdued voice and frowning face seemed genuinely disturbed, though if it was for Banner's sake, or his beloved Army's, Tony didn't know.

He sighed.

"He's not who they say he is. He knows something, and they want it not known, but for some reason can't dispose of him. Or need him alive, I'm not sure."

"Let me guess: you're going to find out."

"Damn right I will. I'll need a little closer access to Pentagon to start breaking into their files, but that doesn't keep me from simply talking to _him_." He threw a quick appraising glance in the boy scout's direction. "You're welcome to join as a distraction for the guards, if you're able to keep from fucking it all up."

Rogers' jaw was set, eyes looking straight forward in an image of perfect determination. "I just want to know what's going on here."

* * *

The new lab place was smaller than the previous one, and with the number of the guards remaining unchanged it felt even more cramped and suffocating. Not that Banner seemed to notice it, or mind all that much – hunched above one of the hanging glass screens, one hand on its touchscreen keyboard, the other on the scanner above where the staff was placed, he was a picture of working focus, even as hurry and desperation seemed to mark his every move.

He looked up at the new arrivals when they were already halfway through the room, a small smile tugging at his lips at the sight of Tony, but vanishing swiftly when he caught a look of Rogers walking up behind him.

"Mr. Stark, Captain," he greeted quietly, eyes shifting between them and the readings on his panel, unsure of where to stop. "What are you- uh, I mean, has Mr. Fury sent you to help me out again? I- I believe I have it under control, and it won't... it won't be long now," he finished, barely above a whisper.

Tony took a quick stock of the guards and their positioning again, and nodded to Rogers before making his way towards the physicist. "Don't know if you've heard it about me, but I'm kind of famous for my ardent belief in the benefits of teamwork and sharing and all that kind of stuff. Besides, you can never be too careful when an alien space-time dimension-distorting sentient energy is concerned, right?"

"Of course. I... appreciate the company."

Tony nodded again, eyes scanning over the lab, the guards, Rogers trying to chat some of them up on the other side of the room, the Cube monitor station, the radiation and emission readings on the panel hooked to the staff, and, finally, on the man who tried his hardest to pretend he wasn't bothered by the physical proximity of another person to him.

"So, is that true?" Tony began without preamble, but keeping his voice as quiet as possible. "You died then?"

Banner stilled for a moment, then resumed his work, not speaking or even looking in Tony's direction for several minutes.

"You said it yourself," he whispered at last. "'Since 2006'."

"Was it your idea?"

A strange choking sound pierced the room, and Tony became alarmed for a moment, before Banner's familiarly twisted lips and slightly shaking shoulders convinced him the man must've tried to laugh.

"Does it _look_ like it was my idea?"

"Then _why?_ "

Banner shook his head, keeping his eyes on his monitors. "You don't really expect me to just tell, do you?"

"I can help you."

"No, you can't."

"But you'd want me to help you?"

"No, I don't. I don't want anyone to get involved in this."

"Is this a Stockholm thing? You like being locked up?"

"I like not pointlessly endangering people who are about to make a giant mistake."

"Endangering?" Tony said, taking a step closer to the man, almost forgetting to keep his voice down. "I've just single-handedly – okay, with your help – saved the world from whatever horrible fate Loki's prepared for it, all without a single shot fired. I'm _all_ in for a little danger right now."

Banner refused to look at him still, and his fingers moved over the panels in quick, tense motions, pushing the sensory buttons with more force than was strictly necessary.

"You're just one man."

"I'm Iron Man."

"I still don't know what that means."

"It means I can _handle_ it. Come on. A couple of names and locations, and I'll bust you out with fireworks and fanfares."

There was a small _crack_ sound as Tony saw Banner's finger jab into the fragile panel in front of him, leaving a dent and a series of tiny fissures in the translucent material. His eyes were focused, unseeing, and ever-so-slightly glassy, and his voice was a hushed, desperate plea of the condemned.

"Leave it alone. Please, Mr. Stark, Tony, Iron Man, whatever, I... It's my fault, I should never have- Please, I am begging you to forget everything I said to you, everything you think you know, and to just let it all-"

"What? Why? What are you afraid of? These guys? The Army? Come on, I'm Iron M-"

"Leave it alone, Mr. Stark, you don't know what you're dealing with."

"Yeah? And what am I dealing with, _Dr. Green?_ "

That's when Banner turned to face him – surprisingly swift and fluid motion for a man seeming to consist of little but shifting and jittering – and there was something in his face, beyond fear and anger, something in his eyes that wasn't there before. Were there flecks of... green amid the brown?

"I don't _like_ being locked up, but I _need_ to be," he said, the forced steadiness of his voice belied by the clenched teeth and tense shoulders. "Whatever 'poor helpless victim of the government' narrative you've constructed in your head - I'm not your man. _I'm a monster_."

Tony smirked, leaning a little closer into the other man's face.

"You don't look like a vicious killer to me."

" _You_ don't look like somebody capable of running a multi-billion corporation to _me_ , Mr. Stark, and yet appearances are deceiving."

"Technically, my PA, Pepper, runs it."

"Then maybe _he_ should make the big decisions here."

"It's a 'she'. Pepper, she's a she, a girl. A girlfriend."

"I don't care," Banner pressed, his already low voice deepening to a growl. "Leave it alone, Mr. Stark."

"Mr. Stark," came from behind Tony, and he turned to finally notice the tight ring of soldiers gathered around them, all with their fingers on the triggers, watching him and Banner like a snake watches its prey. "Step away from the doctor."

"What the hell?! Do you think he's gonna jump at me or something? Stand down!"

"Mr. Stark, maybe it would be better if-"

"Don't you dare side with them, Rogers," Tony snarled at the man he thought came here to support them, "or so help me I-"

There was a hand on his shoulder then, grip hard as stone. "Step away, Mr. Stark."

"Yeah? I'd like to see you try and make me." Tony shook off the hand, and pushed the soldier's chest. The man took a step back, but lifted his rifle, as did the others in the room, and it took no time for Tony to notice that none were aimed at him.

"Leave, now," Banner whispered, and there was no trace of the last minutes' tense anger in his pitiful form. He was leaning heavily against the console, breaths coming in fast, irregular pattern, an unhealthy greenish tinge to his skin, and unbridled terror in his eyes. " _Please_."

"No. This is all bullshit, and I am not leaving until you give me a satisfactory answer."

"That's it! Sergeant, escort Mr. Stark from the premises," came from the man with the Lieutenant's insignia that stood right behind Banner.

Rogers spoke up then. "Now look, everyone, whatever's going on here, I'm sure it can-"

Tony never got the chance to know what the guy was meaning to say, as several important things happened in the very next moment.

Rogers took a step forward as he spoke, which caused Banner to turn towards him and step away from the console, closer to the Lieutenant, who also took an instinctive step back, but tripped over a set of bundled wires that littered the floor, losing balance and sending a single panicked shot to the ceiling.

The mood in the room snapped in an instant. Soldiers barked commands and curses at each other, taking the Lieutenant's mishap as a call to action, aiming to fire at Banner. Rogers wasted no time grabbing the rifle of the guard closest to him, ripping it out of his hands and smashing another guard's weapon with it, then dodging an incoming blow from the first guy; Tony quickly stepped backwards, plunging an elbow into the face of the soldier standing there, then lunged forward, grabbing Banner by the forearm and pushing him to the floor, away from the flying bullets. The man looked even more strained and sickly now, skin covered in sweat and weird green patches, and his eyes-

 _God, his eyes.._.

"Get back!" Banner growled, grasping Tony by the shoulders with strength that could crush bones, and shoving him under the console desk. Beyond the brilliant green blaze of the man's eyes, Tony saw two guards pointing their rifles at Banner's exposed back, but didn't have even a moment to comprehend what was coming before they fired.

Two shots rang almost simultaneously, hitting Banner's back and neck, and then two more, but – no, wait, the thing that embedded itself in the man's neck was no bullet, it was a large thick needle with a glass casing attached, _what were they trying to-_

"Too late!" someone roared over the cries of the fight, and it took Tony another moment or two to realize _it was still Banner_. Or... wasn't. Something was happening to Banner, some disturbing, unnatural horror pushing and pulling, stretching and scratching beneath his skin, and at first Tony thought it was because of whatever was there in those darts, but he changed his mind the very next moment, when the other man reached to jerk the needle out of his neck, and crushed it, metal and glass, with his bare hand.

"I told you to leave it alone!"

He released Tony's other shoulder then, and threw himself backwards into the armored glass wall, hitting it with clenched fists, even as more darts flew at him only to bounce off his shifting, changing skin and fall to the floor with a dull clink. The sight was repulsing, nauseating, but at the same time Tony found himself unable to look away as the timid, jumpy man he met no earlier than twenty four hours before was writhing and crying on the floor before him, curling in on himself even as his muscles exploded out, twisting, mutating, expanding before his very eyes, defying all known laws of physics, until only a grotesque, vaguely man-like form, covered in tatters and faded scars, was slumped in an undignified heap against the cracked glass and the bright blue sky beyond.

Somewhere on the edge of his consciousness, Tony has registered the frantic conversations between the guards, Cap's muttered "What in the blazes...", someone calling for reinforcements over the comm, the blaring of the alarm siren throughout the level, his own heart pumping wildly in his ears... but all of it fell to background noise once the heap that might've been Banner once has shifted and moved, and rose tall, and squared its viridescent shoulders against the midday sun.

It had a face – deformed and bizarre and terrifying beyond belief, yet still uncannily, unnervingly like that of Bruce Banner. Its eyes were bright, chemical green, and its features were contorted in a grimace of hate.

It was looking straight at Tony.

"Dr. _Green_ , huh?" the engineer said quietly, even as his heart threatened to jump right out of his chest. "And here I thought it was just an _ER_ reference."

The creature roared at full strength of its lungs, the sheer force of it slamming Tony's back even harder into the desk, ripping through his eardrums and whatever flippant courage he might've mustered before. A hail of needles and bullets alike rained upon it, not dealing any damage beyond irritating it even further, leading it to jump over the desk Tony was shoved under and emit another ear-splitting roar.

There was more shouting, and more shooting, and more sound of metal bending under heavy weight than Tony has heard since Afghanistan, but when he finally forced his fingers to unclench and his body to turn towards the rest of the room, the only sight that greeted him were mangled surfaces littered with unconscious uniformed bodies, armed S.H.I.E.L.D. agents in every exit, their useless weapons pointed at a giant green figure standing unharmed in the midst of carnage, one of its humongous fists clutching the-

"No!" Tony cried out, as the beast's bulky fingers pressed a little bit harder at Rogers' neck. The emerald eyes focused on him. "Let him go! He's not- He's Captain America, remember? He's not one of them, and you're-"

The giant roared again, tossing Rogers aside, and leaped towards Tony instead. The breath froze in his lungs at the sight of the behemoth charging at him, but it seemed like the beast had other plans. It pushed the desk that Tony was standing behind like a mere rug, sending the man flying into a wall, but didn't stop until it reached the window wall. Already cracked and battered, it took no more than a blow of the oversized fists to render it nothing but a pile of shards on the metal floor. Another moment, and the hulking figure was leaping through the resulting opening, quickly disappearing in the great blue expanse beyond the Helicarrier.

An awful, ringing silence settled over the decimated laboratory even as the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents have moved in to take care of the wounded and the structural damage. Tony's whole body ached, some sort of haze blurred all of his senses, but his mind remained as clear as always. And it was clear to him, in his mind, that the only logical thing to do at the moment was to follow the incredible abomination of a man he's known for less than a day into the fragile civilian world outside, and to find it before it found more trouble on its big green shoulders than it could possibly handle.

Good thing he brought the Mark VII with him.

* * *

A/N: A bit of action to balance out all the talking)

Just to clear the possible confusion: Bruce's control here _is_ worse than in the movies, for reasons that will be made clear in the further chapters. Also, Hulk's glowing green eyes aren't exactly MCU canon, but I always loved them in the comics, and it's just too vivid a visual to pass up imho.

As always, I hope you're enjoying the story, and please leave a comment if you do!


	4. Blood Spills

...

"Take a good look at me and tell me who

It is that I am.

This old mirror, it is broken,

There's too much drift in the dam."

 _First Aid Kit, "Dance To Another Tune"_

By the time he was in the suit and out of the Helicarrier, the creature was already out of sight. Or- wait, was it? That- that big dark dot almost on the horizon, that seemed to be flying… no, _jumping_ , covering huge amounts of terrain in great leaps… What the hell _was_ it?

Tony did not waste his time wondering, flying towards the dot at full speed instead.

"Tag it and don't you dare lose it, Jarvis," he said into the comms.

"Acknowledged, Sir. The target exhibits a faint, but distinct enough gamma radiation signature, which may facilitate its tracking."

"Of course it does."

Catching up to the thing proved a challenge, but staying close was easier. Tony was afraid he would be hard at work trying to steer it clear of populated areas, maybe even having to blast it off of the Empire State Building or something, but, surprisingly enough, the opposite happened. The beast showed no interest in buildings or people. In fact, Tony was relieved to notice it tended to stick to the countryside and unoccupied roadway, which was doubly fortunate as its landings and takeoffs did quite a number on whatever surface it performed them on.

It was a sight to behold. A modern myth, a creature out of ancient legends, magnificent and improbable. There was no physical way it should be able to leap with such force, speed and precision, just as it was impossible for a medium-sized man to turn into a lumbering green behemoth in the first place, and yet Tony has seen both of those things happen with his own eyes. And as he watched, a tiny, detached part of his mind was already making lists and calculations, was coming up with the best ways to dissect, anatomize and break apart this incredible monstrocity.

He pushed those thoughts aside. He pushed aside everything beyond not losing the creature's sight, and not getting into it at the same time.

They were moving for a while, but the beast showed no signs of tiring. And yet, after landing in a woodland massive of some sorts, it did not leap back up. Tony waited a moment in the air, then started a quick descent to the ground. Following the thing in the sky was one thing, but in this thicket? Its giant bulk notwithstanding, he could lose it in minutes.

"Where the hell are we, Jarvis?" he whispered despite himself.

"My data indicates we are in the Catskill mountains, Sir, in the area known as Big Indian Wilderness," the synthesized voice replied as Tony waded through the trees as fast as he could manage. "Approximately 93,6 miles northeast of the location of the Helicarrier. May I also add, Sir, that since your abrupt departure from it, I have registered no less than five attempts to contact you by Director Fury and-"

"Not now, Jarvis," he cut off. "Can you track it?" He did his best to follow the trail of broken vegetation and disturbed ground, but the reality of it wasn't nearly as easy as the TV made it look.

After a beat, Jarvis's calm voice filled his feed again. "I am detecting a slight spike of gamma radiation 0.35 mile north from here, Sir, as well as a certain disturbance of the background noise pattern in the same direction."

"On it. Thank you, buddy."

Brushing aside the sour realization that he was moving in the opposite direction before that, Tony rushed north, quickly hearing the "disturbances" in the usual forest noises for himself. The low growling and the sharp cracking of wood were especially startling amidst the deceptive, unnatural silence of the surrounding wildlife. All the nearby creatures have no doubt fled the scene of a raging predator.

And it was raging, although not quite the way it did on the Helicarrier. There was less purpose to its frantic, stumbling movements, and more desperation and... pain? The creature was circling a small clearing with uneven, jerky steps, clutching and even hitting itself on its head, running into the rocks and trees with wild abandon.

"What the hell is it doing, Jarvis?" Tony asked, unable to tear his eyes away from the grotesque sight. "Should I, uh..."

Just then, the beast let out a low wail, that deepened quickly into a growl. Both of its massive hands were pressed to its temples, its face a grimace loathing. An unsteady step, a spasm of green muscles - and a nearby pine exploded into splinters, the sound of it drowned by an agonized, monstrous roar.

Jarvis's voice in his comms was as even as always. "Dr. Banner appears to be in serious distress, Sir. I would advise against engaging him in his current state."

Jarvis has never given him anything less than a sound, reasonable advice.

Tony has never done anything less than ignore it completely.

"Hey there, big guy," he said, stepping into the beast's line of sight. Slowly, carefully, both arms in the air. "It's me, Tony, remember me?" He even thought about raising the faceplate, but that seemed like too bold a move even for him.

The giant startled at his appearance, jerked aside, righted itself against another pine that screeched painfully under its weight, but held. Its blazing green eyes stared at him in confusion and anger, and the clear trace of Banner's features in the beastly face made Tony's skin crawl.

"I'm not here to hurt you," he tried in a calm, almost cooing manner one would use with a scared child.

The creature just frowned, and bared its teeth, a rumbling growl forming deep in its throat.

"I want to help you."

He made a cautious step forward, arms still up, trying to look as un-threatening as possible for a guy in a robot suit.

"Sir, I would firmly advise you against-" Jarvis began, but was silenced with a flick of Tony's eyes.

"There, big guy," he went on instead. "See? I'm on your side."

The beast was hunched over itself, wary, looking at Tony from under heavy brows. The overall resemblance to an abused dog was uncanny, and Tony wasn't quite sure if he was dealing with a man or an animal here, but he couldn't resist the urge to reach out. Holding in a breath, he slowly outstretched one hand, palm-up.

The creature jerked away again, despite the gentleness of the movement, then looked back at Tony. The air in the forest stood still and oppressively quiet as it shifted, eyes never leaving Tony's, turned slightly, and, surprisingly enough, outstretched a massive hand of its own. Tony could've laughed. He knew it! He knew there was a way, if he just tried, he knew he could make it work! Now the creature was reaching out to him too, meaty green fingers moving carefully towards his own, gingerly touching the cold metal, covering his palm with its own huge hand…

Gripping it so hard it burned.

As a white-hot lance of pain spiked through his brain, Tony had but a second to contemplate the beast's ear-splitting roar before being hurled into a tree on the other side of the clearing, the impact pushing all air out of his lungs at once.

When the murky haze of pain and the tight ringing in his ears subsided by just a fraction, he once again had mere moments to notice the flickering, searing red HUD listing a plethora of warnings and damage reports, just as his view became completely filled with the hulking green mass, charging at him at full speed.

His right hand useless, Tony hurried to put his left one in front of him, setting the repulsor's output to the max and firing. The brilliant white flash hit the monster square in the chest, but did nothing to even slow it down. It was near Tony in an instant, clutching him by the throat and lifting him in the air.

Desperate to get out of the terrible grip, Tony has activated all of the thruster systems and positioned them perpendicular the ground. For a moment, it looked like he was breaking away, but then, to his horror, he felt the beast's pressure growing, its monstrous hand anchoring him like a ton of lead.

He was starting to panic, feeling his suit getting crumpled around him, cold sharp metal pushing mercilessly into his flesh, legs thrashing helplessly in the air, hands clawing at the green fingers to no avail. As another exclamation point popped up in his field of view, signifying yet another system failure, he gathered whatever air he could to croak into the inner comms.

"All power.. t-to the Un-nibeam, J… Now!"

Even at partial capacity, the resulting flash should've been enough to blow a tank half a mile away. It hit the creature right in the face, but all it got out of it was a stumble, and a clumsy loss of grip.

Tony fell to the ground in a heap, pain flaring throughout all of his body, but he could not allow himself to surrender to it yet. Propping himself up on one elbow, he tried to crawl away as fast as he could while the beast was still blinded and writhing. But seeing that it was not putting as much distance between them as he would've liked, he decided to switch to offence. Repulsors were out of the question for a while still, but he did have the rockets and, if worse came to worst, the laser…

The beast let out a heart-rending wail that ended on a deep, rumbling note, and Tony finally took a moment to look at it closely. The heavy breathing, bulging veins and a feral twist to its face - the abused dog likeness popped into Tony's brain again, but only now did he remember that such dogs tended to have the sharpest teeth.

The creature jumped high in the air, and Tony wasted no time lifting his right hand with his left and clicking the manual release mechanism. As the monster's great body has shadowed the sun above and started rapidly descending on Tony's unmoving form, a half-dozen of small high impact rockets flew out of the suit's arm and straight into the beast, shooting it off its trajectory and away down the slope of the hill.

The shockwave slammed Tony hard into the ground, and even though the suit protected him from the worst of it, he still wasted several minutes just getting his bearings. A pained roar nearby sent a jolt through his body though, quickly getting him on his feet. Was the thing still alive, after being hit with a rocket barrage straight to the face? It wasn't _all_ that surprising, considering all he's seen of it up until now, but still… Just what the hell was it?!

Tony stumbled to the edge of the clearing to where the roaring sounded from, and saw a steep slope just behind the damaged trees. The creature was at the bottom of it, back on its feet with barely a scratch to show for all the damage it's endured, and Tony's heart was halfway to the bottom of his stomach at the thought of the second round with the monster, when he noticed one unexpected detail…

The beast wasn't interested in him anymore.

It was roaring and growling, in pain or in anger, pacing the small rocky area it landed in, lashing out at whatever random rock or a tree unlucky enough to catch its attention. One of its hands was almost constantly pressed to its head, fingers dragging themselves along its face, leaving deep marks. The scene was so similar to the one Tony has witnessed upon his arrival to the forest, and yet... something was different.

Taught by the rather painful experience, this time Tony wasn't at all eager to get the beast's attention, but the rocky ground underneath him had other ideas. A small shift of balance from one foot to another caused a piece of rock to break off from the slope and roll down, dragging a tiny rock slide down with it. The noise was enough to startle the creature, and as it whipped around to stare at Tony, hands clenched in massive fists, Tony realized what the difference actually was.

Instead of the blazing green flame, its eyes now were dark. Human.

"Banner?" he whispered, awestruck.

There was no way the creature could've heard him, and yet its face distorted painfully in the next moment, a blood-chilling wail tearing itself out of its throat, hands pressing at the temples, and a violent shudder rocking through its entire body. An unnatural ripple crossed its muscles next, and Tony was left to watch it struggle desperately against it, strike fitfully against the ground and itself, cry and lash out at the rocks and the sky, all as its body rebelled against it, enlarging and shrinking out of sense or proportion, melting and withering, breaking down.

The sight was no less disturbing than the first transformation Tony's witnessed, but once again he found himself transfixed. Rapidly losing its strength, the creature stumbled to a small rock outcropping nearby and fell over, limbs shortening, the last traces of green leaving its skin. After several moments, all that's left was a small, malnourished human body, wracked by shivers and occasional muscle spasms.

Tony blinked. Once, twice, then released a breath, heavy as stone. All at once, the adrenaline has left his body, pain and tiredness crashing over him in waves. He stifled a groan, and took a quick look at the flickering HUD before him. There was just enough juice in the repulsors for a quick ride down the slope, and once there, he pulled all of the engagement locks, and felt the suit fall down behind him with a dull clang.

He didn't need Jarvis whispering in his ear to know he was in shit condition. His right shoulder was dislocated, wrist and arm heavily bruised and probably fractured, all manner of bruises and cuts covered his body, several cracked ribs and, judging by the headache and the nausea, some sort of concussion to boot.

And yet, part of him knew he got off pretty easy on this one. The sudden urge to see Pepper, to hold her and feel her arms around him was overwhelming.

 _All right, come on, pull yourself together, champ_. _Plenty of time for that later_. First things first, he positioned himself against a nearby pine, clenched his teeth, and snapped his shoulder back in its socket with one quick motion. Pain seared at his nerves, but the subsequent wave of relief nearly brought him to his knees.

Head clearer and pain - more manageable, he stumbled over to where Banner was still lying on the rock. The man ( _god, was the term even fully applicable in this case?_ ) was no longer twitching, lying perfectly still in a heap of limbs and shreds of stretched-out clothing. Bony and pale, his body was covered in marks and scars, but none of them recent.

Tony took another careful step forward, morbid curiosity warring with self-preservation inside of him. The latter rarely won.

"Banner?" he whispered again.

Nothing at first. Then, the man stirred in a slow, drawn-out movement, groggily propping himself into a sitting position. He let out a tired sigh and lifted his eyes at Tony.

"Mr. Stark…" he mumbled, then fell silent. His eyes seemed to actually focus on the other man, and in a second he was on his feet, backing away, stumbling and shivering. "W-what- what are you doing here?" he stammered, wide-eyed. "What… Oh god, what happened, I should never have- it's all my, _god_ , all my fault, I should've- should've told them I-"

"Hey, calm down! Take it easy there, big guy…"

"More blood, always more, I should've told them it wouldn't work, but I was selfish, selfish, selfish…"

"Selfish?" Tony asked, searching for anything to snap Banner out of his rising panic.

"I knew I wasn't right," the other man went on in a rush, eyes glazing over, arms circling protectively around himself, "couldn't be let out, I knew it, but I just wanted to- t-to _work_ again, to feel- to be- My fault, all my fault again…"

"Jesus…"

"You should leave!" he cried out then. "They'll be here soon, they always find me, they need to take me back, but it won't be good if they see you here…"

"You don't have to go with them," Tony said carefully, taking a small step forward.

"I do. It's for the best."

"Best for whom?!" Tony shouted, losing patience. It was well past the time he was willing to play along with the other man's ridiculous martyrdom. " _Look_ at yourself!"

Like a switch has been flipped, Banner's face turned to stone at that. "No, _you_ look at me, Mr. Stark," he said in a low, vicious tone. "Or better yet, at yourself. I don't know how you're still alive, but it obviously wasn't for my lack of trying."

Tony took a moment to look chastised. If how he felt was any indication, he must be looking like shit indeed. But then the moment passed, and he shrugged it off.

"I told you I can handle it."

"Maybe. But what about…" Banner visibly choked, hands clenching into shaky fists. "How many have I- How many people have I killed on the Helicarrier?" he finally spat out, avoiding Tony's eyes. Without the glasses, his face looked more vulnerable than ever. "Is it even still in the air?"

"Yeah, the structural damage is medium to minor. About ten wounded." Tony paused. He didn't dare lie. "Three are dead."

Banner's lips twitched then, curled in a thin, brittle smile. "Only three? My, it's like I wasn't there at all."

"It wasn't… you. Was it? What- what _was_ that?"

Tony saw Banner's jaw clench and unclench several times, but his lips never moved.

"My... pride," he forced out after a while, barely above a whisper. "My pain. My monster."

"Can you cut the poetry?" Tony rolled his eyes. "That thing- that- it was-"

Banner was still avoiding Tony's gaze. "The grunts call it 'the Hulk'. Just as well, I guess."

"That was it, right? The 'Accident'? That's what… killed you?"

"Not only me," he said, and in the next moment a spasm jolted through his shoulder, the sudden movement making Tony step back without thinking. Banner's face closed off even further. "You need to get out of here, Mr. Stark."

Tony was getting too tired for this.

"I'm not going anywhere until I-"

"Until you get what you want?!" Banner blew up, eyes burrowing into the other man, pained and painful in their intensity. "Your precious answers? I was a fool to think you were after anything besides satisfying your curiosity!"

"I was trying to help you!"

"How?! By antagonizing the soldiers that were put there for your protection? By persisting when I asked you- when I _begged_ you to stop prying?"

"You clearly don't know what's good for you-"

"And you _clearly_ do?" Banner growled. "The great genius Tony Stark knows what's best for everyone?"

There were green sparks dancing in the man's eyes now, a vein on his temple throbbing a decidedly unnatural viridian hue. Tony already knew the signs.

"Listen, I can help you," he began, in as calm a tone as he could manage, stifling all urges to argue. "You won't have to go back to the Army, and we'll figure something out with this, uhm… the Hulk."

"'Figure something out'?! You have _no idea_ what it even is, what it's _like_!" Banner cried out, face contorted in rage, the green tinge spreading.

"I can learn! I'm not a genius for nothing, you know, I can pretty much swear to you on my life-"

" _Your life_?!"

Banner took another step forward then, taut muscles under clammy skin, teeth bared and eyes blazing, and some part of Tony realized with cold detachment that that was it. Regrets flashed before his eyes, Pepper's crying face, god, he didn't even call her, and now he never will, because now Banner will transform again and kill him for sure, no suit to stop him, no escape, nothing, nothing at all…

And then, it was as if Tony's own terror reflected in Banner's eyes, and the other man stopped dead in his tracks. Eyes still ablaze, but now wide with panic, he jerked back, pressing his fingers into his scalp, letting out a choking, guttural sound somewhere between a growl and a whimper. He took several quick steps back, legs unsteady, and fell to his knees, then to his hands. Muscles already rippling an deforming, green patches devouring his skin, his desperate eyes shot up at Tony for just a second before he cried out-

-and smashed his head on the rock bed.

A loud, sickening crunch, dark blood splattering the rock, man's body toppling down - it all took moments, but it was as if Tony watched it happen in slow motion. Too stunned to move, he watched Banner's body twitch and shiver, then slowly settle down, go still, the green receding from the pale flesh.

Silence.

Then he heard the man groan.

Releasing a breath he didn't know he was holding, Tony rushed to Banner's side, kneeling beside him, trying to check his vitals.

"Banner! You okay there? I thought- Nevermind, let me-"

"N-no, no…" the man mumbled, half-awake, skinny arms pushing at Tony with the strength of a kitten.

"Take it easy there, big guy…"

"'M okay… Okay…" he went on as Tony stepped back, after making sure Banner's pulse was steady and breathing - within the norm. Though, what norm that was he could not say - there was nothing normal about returning to consciousness mere minutes after a head injury like that, nothing normal about… well, about Banner in general.

Tony watched the man sit up with some effort, cradling his forehead in one hand. He took several deep ragged breaths and opened his eyes, staring dejectedly at the ground.

Tony was still reeling. "Jesus, why'd you do that?" he shook his head, in equal parts confusion and disbelief.

"Hoped I'll black out…" Banner mumbled again. "Doesn't always work, but… It's okay. It'll heal. It always heals."

Tony wasn't sure Banner wasn't just talking to himself. Voice barely louder than the rustling of the leaves on the wind, sunken eyes and bluish pale skin - he was a ghost, a forest spirit, a shadow of a man.

Tony turned away. Stood up, hands running through his hair. "What the hell… What have they done to you?"

"Everything," came Banner's quiet reply. "Poking and prodding, and cutting and... Trying to figure out what makes it tick. What triggers it, what sustains, what counters. What cures, what kills…" A casual, empty monotone, like reading off a list of groceries you buy every week. "Everything. They've tried _everything_."

Tony cursed.

"It's monstrous…"

" _I'm_ monstrous," Banner shrugged. " _They_ were just doing their jobs."

Tony cursed again, kicked a stone into a rock outcropping. Punching a tree looked tempting too, but he decided to spare his hands further damage. Pepper was gonna be furious enough with him as it was. But the pain, the cold, Banner's eerie blankness and the revolting things he was making Tony hear - this whole deranged situation in its entirety - drove him all the way up the wall.

"It's- it's you still, isn't it, at some level?" he asked, coming a step closer, desperate for any straw that would help him climb on top of this. "You can learn to control it."

"No-one can control it. _They_ try, but the best they can do is point it in the right direction and hope for the best."

"You mean the Army… uses it? You? For what?"

Banner turned to face him then. Eyes dark and dull, but a mocking twist to his lips.

"Take a guess."

Tony was out of curses by this point. A vile, sour helplessness circled itself around the reactor in his chest, spreading through his blood, coming out on his skin in straight black lines.

"Shit, I want to help you, Banner…"

"But you're not sure you can?" the man finished for him. "It's written all over your face." There was no judgement in his voice, but that didn't make Tony feel any better.

Banner stood up slowly, taking the hand away from his forehead. Dried blood covered the side of his face and matted his hair, but the bleeding has definitely stopped. It really was healing before Tony's very eyes.

The man jerked his head from side to side, blinked several times, as if to clear his vision, and looked at Tony. Naked and dirty, he showed no traces of shame or discomfort. Just tiredness, and quiet resignation.

"They'll be here soon. Leave, Mr. Stark. You can't help me."

"Let me be the judge of that," Tony cut off, words coming out faster than he intended. "Look, I know what it's like to- to be this low. To think so lowly of yourself that you don't even believe you deserve any kind of reprieve… I know you can get past that, with some help, someone who- who cares…"

Banner's face didn't change, but his voice got even lower. "When the Accident happened," he began, eyes burrowing into Tony's, "the first thing… it… did, was kill the only person that cared. My Betty… Mangled her body so hard she did not last even a day on life support. You _don't_ know what it's like." A pause, and a heavy glare. "You can't save everyone, Tony. Sometimes, you shouldn't."

"You should always _try_ ," Tony pressed, coming even closer to the other man, resisting the urge to shake some sense into him. "Where there's a will there's a way, damn it, I _swear_ to you, just believe me! Please," he added, firm.

Banner didn't answer. Running out of strength and arguments, Tony raised his eyes to the sky, clenched them shut, and heaved a long, shuddering sigh. Why did this have to be so difficult? Why such a struggle? He ran a hand over his eyes, tired and frustrated, then opened them again, ready to give the other man another piece of his mind, and… paused.

Banner's face was different. Slowly, subtly, the mask was crumbling, resignation giving way to suspicion and hope. It shone through his wide open eyes, bright enough to blind, hot enough to sear. He opened his mouth, corners of it just on a verge of a smile…

A distant rushing sound of the helicopter propeller reached them then, scaring the birds out of their trees.

Banner's face shattered.

"Y-you have to get out, _now_ , god, if they find you-" he stammered, head darting between Tony and the sky.

"Come with me!" Tony urged instead. "It'll be alright, I-"

"You want to help me, yes, and I want to help you, so I know you'll understand." Face twisted with pain, Banner took a step closer to Tony. Glinting red eyes stood out against the ashen skin in striking grim contrast. The roar of the choppers was getting louder.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, but just as Tony was about to ask what for, he saw Banner shift to the side in a quick, fluid motion, and had but a moment to register the fist flying towards his face at full speed.

A flash of pain and confusion, and then he was out.

* * *

He caught the man before he reached the ground. Lowered him slowly, but only to adjust his grip, then dragged him towards the thick bushes near the base of the slope, thanking his stars for the burst of adrenaline adding to his otherwise non-existent physical strength. Covering him with fallen branches and foliage in a panicked hurry, he did not allow himself a last look.

The roaring was too close.

He ran towards it.

* * *

A/N: I guess I forgot to tell you that no-one is legally allowed to catch a break in my stories, so yeah :/

That aside though, hope you're having fun with the story, and please comment if you're in the mood!


	5. Time Passes

...

"And I'm a goddamn fool, but then again so are you,

And the lion's roar, the lion's roar

Has me seeking out and searching for you."

 _First Aid Kit, "The Lion's Roar"_

The sight of Tony Stark's workshop reminded Steve of the saying about the "genius who rules over chaos". An eclectic assortment of instruments, spare parts, half-finished mechanisms and plain junk covered the many surfaces of the room, yet the man himself moved about it with casual grace, wasting barely a moment to think about where to turn to for the thing he was looking for.

Steve decided to not waste any time either. Letting the automated door close quietly behind him, he stepped into the room. The heavy blaring of something Stark no doubt considered to be music prevented him from calling out the other man's name, so he just moved towards him and stood at a distance, waiting to be noticed.

He didn't have to wait long. One of the resident machines - a large, crude-looking thing with a single claw-like appendage - was already wheeling towards the engineer, poking him in the shoulder to get his attention. The man swatted the claw away a couple of times, but at the thing's persistence and faint distressed beeping, he did turn around, an expression of shock momentarily settling over his face.

"Ms. Potts said you wanted to see me," Steve said loudly, trying to speak over the noise.

"Like hell I did!" Stark shouted, annoyed. "Get out of my house!"

The strain to this throat was getting painful, but Steve pressed on. "Actually, she said that _she_ wanted you to see me."

Stark scowled at that, cursed to the side and put down the screwdriver clutched in his hand. A few shouted words to someone named Jarvis, and the cacophonous banging and yelling has mercifully ceased.

Running a hand over his face, he turned to Steve again, fixing him with a heavy glare.

"What for?"

"She says you haven't set a step out of this room in three days, and you won't tell her what's going on. She thinks it has to do with the Cube mission, so she asked me to talk to you."

"It has nothing to do with the Tesseract."

Steve hesitated.

"It's about... Dr. Green, isn't it?"

Stark clenched his jaw and looked away. The claw machine next to him let out a long, trilling whirr, and he patted it on the chassis absent-mindedly, like one would a dog.

Steve was surprised to receive a phone call at all, his social circle being what it was these days, let alone a call from someone introducing herself as Tony Stark's girlfriend. Ms. Potts sounded increasingly worried though, and now he saw the reasons behind it for himself.

Stark's tousled, matted hair was falling on his forehead, his posture haggard, deep shadows under his eyes. It suddenly struck Steve that he looked older, _was_ older, than he has ever seen Howard to be.

"Your neck's doing fine, I see?"

Steve blinked several times, torn out of his thoughts. Stark was looking at him from under heavy brows, noticing the yellow-green bruises left by the hulking creature four days ago. That morning in the Helicarrier lab still stood vividly in Steve's memory - the monster's blazing green eyes and terrible roar, and fingers like stone, lifting him in the air and crushing his windpipe…

"It'll heal," he replied.

Stark stared at him some more, then slowly nodded.

"His real name's Banner. Bruce Banner," he began, looking away. "He was… _is_ a scientist. He was working on a radiology research project for the Army in 2006, when a piece of experimental equipment in his lab has critically malfunctioned. It completely destroyed his lab and his research, and killed him." He looked at Steve again. "That's the official story."

Steve frowned. "But you're sure he's alive, and is a prisoner to the Army."

"Damn right I'm sure!" Stark exclaimed, the sudden burst of zeal giving his worn out face a striking, livid look. "They've been holding him all these years, making… doing god knows what to him."

"Did they make him into that… thing?"

"No," he shook his head, hands clenching into fists at his sides. "My best guess is that it was his own research, but I don't know for sure, because all info on it got scrapped. Not a byte of data, not a single classified file, nada, zero, zilch!"

"They're good at covering their tracks."

"This is more than just good. There's always _something_ , I mean, we're talking about the government here, the bureaucracy incarnate, there's _always_ a paper trail, always a catch, but this…" he trailed off, gesturing vaguely around himself, then darted to one of the desks nearby, booting something up, and Steve saw a mass of bright translucent images - holograms, he remembered - spring up around him. Stark pointed to one of them - a personnel file of an aged man with a hard expression. "Here, the man in charge of Banner's project back in 2006 was one General Thaddeus Ross. After the day of the incident, there is _no_ more record of him, except for the fact that he's still enlisted. Where is he stationed?" he demanded. "What is his job? Who's under his command?"

Steve looked over the images. Many were personnel files - soldiers, scientists, government officials, their employment history redacted as of after 2006; others - project documentations, research notes, shipping manifests and so on - mere titles, mentions and references, with no actual contents available. One photo he recognized - a thin man in thick-rimmed glasses, who looked much younger and healthier than what Steve got to see of him, but with the same haunted air about him. The name next to the picture read _Dr. R. Bruce Banner_ , and below that, a status: _deceased_.

Steve set his jaw and looked away. It was true, what Stark said, it was real, and the Army was behind it. The pill was hard to swallow, but he had plenty of experience with pills.

Stark was saying something else now, a low mutter, and Steve took notice of a different file. A beautiful dark-haired woman was looking at him from the photo, but what caught Steve's attention was her employment history - it wasn't redacted. There was _Project Spartoi_ up until 2006, then work at the Culver University for some time, then the University of Virginia, and a dozen attachments and references, some dated as recently as last month...

"Who is this?" Steve asked, nodding towards the file.

Stark moved to look at the hologram, then turned away, a grimace of distaste on his face.

"That's…" he began, forcing the words out. "Banner mentioned a 'Betty', someone he… cared for, and who died during the incident. The only one to fit this profile would be her. Dr. Elizabeth Samson, _Ross_ at the time, a molecular biologist, and the only daughter of the aforementioned General Ross."

"She's alive though."

"Thanks, _Cap_." Stark rolled his eyes. Then, as if all that nervous energy has left him, he leaned heavily against the nearby desk and exhaled. He stared straight ahead at some fixed point in the floor, his voice tired and dull. "Those fuckers… They made him think she was dead, that _he_ killed her, Jesus, you should've seen him… It was like the Stockholm syndrome on drugs, I swear you've never seen someone so utterly fucked in the head."

Steve frowned. An Austrian factory base came to his mind then, thin pale light, smell of antiseptic and oil, cold wide eyes seeing through him without recognition...

"I've seen what being a POW can do to a person," he whispered.

Stark nodded without turning. "Yeah, your friend. Bucky, was it? What a silly name."

Steve didn't respond, taken aback by Stark's sharp insight. His life was common knowledge to so many people now. Just another one of the hundred things about waking up in the 21st century that still threw him off on the regular basis.

"I thought they were alike, the first time I saw him. Dr. Gre- uh, Banner, I mean," he said after a pause. "There was something…" _empty and fake_ , "something about him that was so very much like Bucky, after he's been rescued."

Stark turned to face him in a jerk of a motion. "So you agree with me that Banner needs to be rescued?"

"Of course. That was never a question. But-"

"What 'but'?" he snapped. "What kind of fucking 'but' can there be, we're talking about an innocent person being imprisoned!"

"But he's not entirely innocent, is he?" Steve pressed despite Stark's unyielding glare. "That… creature. What do we know about it really?"

"The Hulk doesn't- The Hulk," Stark sighed. "That's what it's called apparently. Banner wasn't really forthcoming with any other details. All I got was that the Hulk's the reason they keep him locked up, and they use it for… some sort of covert ops I guess," he grimaced to the side.

"Does Dr. Banner control it or…"

"There's obviously some sort of connection between them, but it all points towards him not being directly in the driver's seat when it happens." A strange sort of expression came over him, then vanished. "He'd lose it if he knew what the beast almost did to you."

Steve remained silent. Stark wasn't looking at him, morose and tense, one hand clenched into a fist at his side, the other resting on the chassis of the softly whirring claw machine. The image was so far removed from anything Steve came to expect of the other man, but then again, what _did_ he know about him?

"It's very important to you, isn't it?" he asked softly.

Stark's eyes flared. "Of course it is! He's- he- He doesn't deserve it! No matter what he says, what he was or- what he did…" The flame faltered, but didn't go out, settling on an even, distinct smoulder. "He just needs a chance."

Steve might not have known a lot about Stark, but he knew enough to get that the man wasn't talking just about Dr. Banner there. He looked at the machine standing patiently by its master's side, saw the thing raise its claw-head at him, and tilt it to the side, as if in question. A long, low beep was the only thing to distress the reigning silence.

That is, until Steve took a step forward, hand outstretched.

"Where do we start?"

Stark looked at him, bewildered, for a long, awkward while. Then he smirked.

* * *

They started working together. As all things worth pursuing, it wasn't quick or easy, and most of the time it felt like chasing a ghost.

Valiantly storming into whatever secret bunker the Army was hiding Banner in and rescuing him in a blaze of explosions seemed like a nice idea, if only they could actually discover the bunker's location. Stark's hacking skills were beyond question, and Rogers's reputation allowed him unimpeded access to many otherwise unreachable military complexes, yet none of their combined efforts bore much fruit. No mention of Banner, or Green, or Ross was in any network, however classified, they have come upon. Which meant that the project operated on a closed network of its own, under the strictest secrecy, and as far as everyone else was concerned it simply didn't exist.

The source of the issue cut off from their reach, their only chance remained in intercepting Banner - or more likely the Hulk - when out on a mission, but that didn't prove to be any easier. Weeks and months could stretch on between leads, and even then, with Jarvis helping them monitor military communications for relevant codes and keywords, they always seemed to be just minutes too late to the scene, their goal mere inches from their grasp, hope hanging from a single thread.

They grew closer. Slowly, imperceptibly, surprisingly to everyone including themselves. Working together smoothed rough edges, cleared misconceptions, created a sense of trust that helped them face the Mandarin scheme, the collapse of S.H.I.E.L.D., and even the Ultron disaster, side by side.

The search for Banner dragged on though, with little results, hope and strength dwindling at a steady pace. Some days it seemed like the train of blind waiting, near misses and outright failures would never end.

But one day it did.

* * *

"It's been three years."

Tony was perched on a cluttered workshop table, a glass of scotch in his hand, a shadow of infinite weariness about him.

Steve walked towards him through the perpetually messy room and settled into the only chair.

"Nothing new, I take it?" he asked.

"No, there is something new. That's… that's the thing."

There was no leads for about a month now, the year as a whole unpleasantly uneventful, so this should've been a cause for excitement, Steve thought, for celebration even. Yet the man's low, gentle voice made it sound anything but.

"What is it, Tony?" he said, bracing for the worst.

Tony made a gulp of scotch, gritted his teeth.

"They've uploaded the files to the main net."

"How many?"

"All of them."

A few quick clicks, and a bunch of holo-displays sprang up before Steve. Some dossiers and notices, but mostly - detailed scientific documentation and military issue mission reports, all with the _Top Secret_ tag. Paperwork. It was exactly what they were looking for all these years.

"Don't try to read it, you won't understand," Tony nodded toward the cluster of scientific files. "You can watch the video attachments though. The bucket's over there," he added, finishing his glass and motioning with it somewhere to the left from Steve's chair.

Steve started sifting through the files then, skimming the science talk, as most he could gather out of it was that some sort of tests and experiments were being performed, the results mostly unsatisfactory. Dr. Banner's profile popped up once among them, but he could only tell so by the photo attached - there was no name next to the picture, the man in it referred to only as "Subject Alpha".

Reading the Army reports made it clear that "Subject Omega" was, in turn, the Hulk creature. For the military branch of the project leaders it was a nearly perfect weapon, combining the precision and untraceable presence of a black ops team with the raw destructive power of an artillery strike. The reports spoke of decimated settlements and wrecked compounds, buildings levelled to the ground and people torn to pieces… The cold protocol of the papers counted the casualties in hundreds, to say nothing about the structural and financial devastation.

In an odd way, it reminded Steve of his own situation. It was no secret that something like _this_ was the Army's end goal for Dr. Erskine's project as well. More… manageable, sure, easier to control, but in terms of power? It would've been Colonel Phillips's dream come true.

Swallowing the bile that came up to his throat, Steve continued, moving back to the research files. Unlike their military counterparts, these didn't have nearly enough focus on the Hulk, whose destructive tendencies and imperviousness to all sorts of physical harm prevented him from being a successful subject. Their focus on Dr. Banner, instead, was nearly all-encompassing.

Just as Tony has said, the words did not make much sense to Steve. He did get that at some point not long after the accident they were trying to get Dr. Banner to work with them, especially at finding a way to create more Hulks, but his constant sabotage and escape attempts soon landed him exclusively in the role of a subject. And that's when the worst parts really began.

"This is…" Steve muttered, unable to tear his eyes away from what he was witnessing. "Oh god… I can't…"

"Don't watch the 12B one. Do yourself a favour," Tony said quietly somewhere to his side, a sound of liquid being poured into a glass following suit.

Steve didn't hear him. The contents of the video files attached to the research papers commandeered his full attention, even as they made his insides twist and turn.

He didn't know what they were trying to accomplish. There was most definitely a reason for all this, as evidenced by the massive amounts of dense academic text and formulas, but from the outside it looked like plain old torture.

All videos were similar. The pattern started with a man, spread on the smooth white surface like a preserved butterfly, chained by the limbs and neck, wires and monitors covering his body like a nest of snakes. Then came in the people in white coats, and then others - in some sort of protective gear, and the narration started. It covered what was happening in minute detail - metal rods crushing bones and joints, metal knives cutting skin, peeling it away inch by nauseating inch, electrical currents jolting through the body, making it thrash and writhe and choke itself on the restraints - a dispassionate report on agony, though parts were hard to hear over the screams. Some tests were… better, that is, easier to watch - they mostly involved injections of some kind, with little outward symptoms apart from the rapid onset of fatigue or nausea; others were much, much worse, with bullets tearing the fragile flesh into bloody chunks, with fire pressed into broken bones and acid poured down a bruised throat. And through all of this sick, loathsome variety, the ending was almost always the same: once the human body and mind were pushed past the limit, the human seized to exist, the green, hulking inhuman clawing itself out with a roar.

As the videos progressed, Steve noticed the slow, but steady change in Dr. Banner. The loss of body weight, the change in posture, the physical withering - all distressing all on their own, but absolutely devastating combined with the gradual, but no less obvious decay of spirit. From one session to another, he watched the angry, restless and brilliantly intense man crumble, piece by piece, until nothing but a hollow shell was left pinned to the blood-stained table.

Steve's head was spinning. He wanted to throw up, if only to feel cleaner. Mind reeling from the contents of the videos, guts churning as if caught in a storm, he pushed the holoscreens away from himself, saw them scatter around like leaves, and pressed his hands to his eyes, the repulsive images burning at his eyelids, the desperate screams a mere white noise in his ears.

"When I asked him what they did to him, he said 'everything'..." Tony whispered through the dark. "I thought he was being melodramatic then, but… it was true. It was all true!" he cried, voice on the verge of breaking, and a moment later the piercing sound of glass shattering against metal made Steve open his eyes again.

"It's monstrous," he muttered in shock. "I can't believe they would do something like that to- to another person. It's nightmarish, it's inhumane…"

"That's what I was telling him!" Tony all but growled. "That sick fuck, I swear I could've strangled him!"

Steve frowned. "Who are you talking about?"

Tony's eyes focused on him then, wide and wild and glistening. "Banner, of course!" he spat. "How could he return to them, Steve? After- after all of _this_ , after I _told_ him I could help him, how could he…" Pushing off the table in a swift, jerky motion, he paced to the windows, tense and brimming with nervous energy. "I don't understand."

Steve nodded, even though Tony wasn't looking.

"It's good that you don't," he said quietly. A memory of Bucky came unbidden, all the more sharp after the ugly revelations of last year's events.

Tony turned to him then, a question in his eyes and an expression of desperate helplessness on his features. The sharp light from the window lit up the pale, worn face, a set jaw covered with graying stubble, and tired, bloodshot eyes… For how long did he have this information, before sharing it with Steve? For how long did he sit here, with robots as his only company, watching these terrible videos, reading the no doubt equally terrible research notes, understanding every little sordid detail of them? Steve closed his eyes again, and sighed.

"Pain... changes people, Tony. Torture, abuse… years upon years, by the look of it." He shook his head, looked up at Tony again. "A rational man wouldn't survive it. A sane man wouldn't." A pause. "If anything, I'm more surprised he looked as… normal as he did, back on the Helicarrier."

His face twisted in anguish, Tony turned away and walked to the far wall of the room, and, after some searching, has managed to extract a glass tumbler from a cluttered desk. Returning, he poured himself a shot of scotch, and downed it in one gulp. Steve noticed that his hand was trembling, but the grip around the glass was hard as steel.

"He was like... one big wound," the man said after a while, low and hoarse. "So… hurt. So scared. I thought I could fix him up all at once. Great big Tony Stark…" he grimaced, and poured another glass. "But I couldn't, of course," he added, downing it too.

"Still, you… administered first aid." Steve tried after a pause. "Sometimes it's all you can do, to keep the other guy going. To keep him alive."

"Yeah, well, not this time."

"What do you mean?"

Tony's grimace fell.

"Why do you think they've uploaded it all?" he whispered, staring at the almost empty bottle with both hatred and longing. "The project's closed. Here."

With a push of some buttons, he summoned another holo-display, and pushed it towards Steve. It was a report from General Ross himself, addressed to the High Command.

"'Closed due to the irretrievable loss of the subject'?" Steve read, hopeful despite himself. "Did he escape?"

There was no hope on Tony's face. "Do you really think that's 'irretrievable'?" he asked without turning. "After all of _this_? There's no place on this planet he could've gone to that they wouldn't have followed. 'Irretrievable' means…"

He didn't finish, and Steve didn't want him to.

"It's hard to believe..." he said at last, rubbing at his forehead. "I mean, after _this_ , after he survived through so much, what could possibly have..."

"There's always something. Perhaps, for him, it's… It's for the best."

Tony finished the last of the alcohol. The bottle slipped from his fingers and fell to the floor, but didn't break.

"I'm sorry," Steve said into the ringing silence.

"Me too," Tony replied.

"You did everything you could, Tony. He wouldn't blame you."

The time stretched on, the sun moving slowly across the sky.

"He didn't blame _them_ either."

* * *

Day turned to night and then to morning, and then days turned into weeks, crawling lazily by. Sometimes Tony reopened the files, reread the reports, rechecked the frequencies, restless and ready to jump at any catch, any clue that would prove him wrong and give him a chance to… to do _something_.

Then weeks turned to months and, mercilessly, to years, and eventually he stopped.

He can't save everyone.

* * *

A/N: :D

This is practically it, folks! There's only one tiny chapter/epilogue left, which will be posted tomorrow, so don't forget to tune in!

Until then, please leave a comment if you're so inclined c:


	6. Epilogue

...

"Forgive me,

Forgive me

Is all I have left.

I guess I just needed a friend."

 _First Aid Kit, "I Just Needed A Friend"_

"And who are 'we'?" Tony demanded. His day was off to an amazing start, with him being in quite a good mood, and Pepper being quite responsive to his propositions, and now apparently it was all about to get ruined by a posh aging cosplayer in a tacky cloak, and his clearly malfunctioning portal device.

The guy glared at him, but didn't respond. Instead, he stepped away, and Tony saw another man step out of the rushing mass of sparks.

A thin, slightly hunched-over man. Middle-aged, middle-hight, cheap, ill-fitting clothes...

Tony gaped. Words clogged his throat, pressure squeezing at his heart.

"I- You were- I thought you were dead!" he exclaimed.

The corner of the man's mouth twitched.

"You do that sometimes."

Shock, outrage and guilt swirled violently within him. _We buried him_. _It's been nearly three years since we'd given up_ …

"H-how, how did you…"

"Where there's a will…" the man shrugged. His face slacked, voice got so low Tony had to strain to hear it. "I thought a lot about what you've said. Plenty of time with nothing to do but… think. And then," he smirked, "there was this mission with an experimental spacecraft…"

 _Shit, of course, of course something like that, why didn't I-_

"You son of a bitch!" Tony cursed, laughing, grabbing the other man by the shoulders before he realised what he was doing, quickly letting go as he felt him stiffen and still in response.

But before he could even think of apologising, he saw the man relax again, lift his eyes at him - dark and warm, and tired beyond all strength.

"Thank you," Bruce Banner said, a slow, pained smile twisting his lips. Tony thought that he's seen the man smile like that once before, many years ago.

He just nodded, not trusting his voice. The black knot of helplessness he didn't even realize was tied tightly around his heart has loosened, the string falling to his feet, useless.

Some people had a way of… saving themselves.

With a little help.

* * *

The cloaked guy cleared his throat.

"So, about Thanos?"

 _The end_

* * *

A/N: It really is!

As short as this fics ultimately was, it was years in the making, and I'm really happy it's finally out! A huge thank you goes to my lovely beta Emi, for all the work on making this thing look presentable and coherent, and to my good pal Cat, for both the inspiration and the motivation to actually get off my ass and finish it. And, of course, thanks to all the people who reviewed, or are going to review - you guys keep me going!


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